Breaking up a home

Cid and her eggs under the lamp shade.

Cid and her eggs under the lamp shade.

How can you care for a spider?  I don’t know exactly why but I do.  Much of it, I think, stems from humanizing it a bit by giving it a name.

A few months ago, I gave a Daddy Long Legs the name of Cid.  I spoke to it every morning when I turned on the floor lamp behind my reading chair in the dining room.  Cid built a web under the shade, a mere six inches or so from my head.  We got along fine.  I read the morning newspaper without thinking of Cid.  Daddy Long Legs are harmless to humans, I read.  And Cid does a good business there in the shadow of a light that draws flying insects into its clutches.

But something unexpected happened.

Cid became pregnant.  It was a she after all.  A dozen or more white and brown eggs exuded from what I assumed was her head.  She was so still I thought she might be dead.  I tapped the web.  She moved.  Relief.

But her pregnancy, to my unhappiness, was the turning point.  I moved the reluctant Cid to a dark corner of the garage.  She can have her babies there.

I feel heartless in a way.  Even in that tiny insect brain, I know by uprooting her Cid felt stress and the danger.

Twice I have looked for her in the garage but no sign yet.  The last I saw of her she was scurrying up the ladder with eggs in tow.


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